


Glorious

by Rabentochter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Loki (TV-Show), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Alternate 2012 Timeline, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Bickering, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 1, Canon Temporary Character Death, Chaos, Consequences, Desert, Difficult Decisions, Drunk Driving, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fights, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Historical References, Hostage Situations, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Manipulation, Plural, Roombas, Saving the World, Time Travel, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trust, Warning: Loki (Marvel), thank Marvel for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: When Loki uses the Tesseract to disappear from Stark's Tower, he lands in a desert, somewhere. He's quickly joined by Stark after his own crash landing. Yet, Stark doesn't recognise him, and it isnot2012 any longer either.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 326
Kudos: 786
Collections: interesting tony





	1. Chapter 1

Loki felt surprisingly okay when he finally could breathe again. His back still hurt from where he’d tried to play meteor but that was only his back.

He felt _warm._

There was sand beneath his fingers, sweltering from the sunlight. He pulled the gag away from his mouth, took a deep breath.

 _Was he on Midgard?_ Loki looked at the sky, squinted at the sun, and cursed the Tesseract for landing him in a _desert_. From all things, it—

He could hear something whistling in the air. A white trail was appearing above him, not all too far away before the object fell from the sky with a loud crash. It was extremely close to him. In fact, Loki would dare to assume that _it_ was a Thor’s length away from him.

There went his solitude and peace after his already _mischievous_ day that had gone exactly as he’d envisioned it. Loki sat up, wanting to inspect the fallen object. Mayhap the Norns thought they could play a joke on him — or one of the Avengers had gotten hold of him when he’d disappeared, but the likelihood of that was so minimal, that Loki didn’t waste another thought on that.

A man was sitting opposite of him, metallic pieces were strewn around him as one did with rose petals on a bed if you wanted to have a pleasant evening with someone. Wild, unkempt hair, a beard that looked as if it hadn’t seen a shave in months neither proper care. Loki got a distinct feeling that he knew this man.

A short, pained groan came from the fallen man and—

“ _Stark?”_ Loki sat up straighter.

“Huh?” Stark turned around. Blood was dripping down his temples, and he was still trying to get rid of his machine. That could only be a kind of— _Iron Man armour._ But it looked as if it had seen better days already. Some parts were smoking. Stark himself only sat up with a tremendous effort.

Loki relaxed somewhat. If this was how Stark had come to capture him, then Loki was confident he could escape quickly without taking greater damage.

“Sorry, this is like, the most inopportune moment to ask me for an autograph,” Stark muttered.

 _An autograph?_ Loki frowned. “Why would I want an autograph from you, Stark?”

“Oh, you’re from the press then? Called it.” Stark sagged back into the desert. “Just _one moment_ without you guys swarming around me like vultures. Would that be too much to ask?”

Loki was just about to answer when Stark beat him to it.

“ _Wait!_ If you’re here, then that means— someone knows where you are, right? I can get out of this fucking desert?” The hope in Stark’s voice made Loki take several steps back in his mind.

If Stark was in the desert, and obviously didn’t recognise him— Maybe this was better than he’d assumed earlier. He got up and walked the few steps to Stark before he bent down low at his hips and stared at the Avenger. “You really don’t recognise me, do you?”

“Let me think.” Stark blinked at him slowly. “Tall, handsome, leather get-up in a desert, _lots_ of leather, sand in your hair? Did we have a photo shoot together at some point for playboy?” He added to that a charming grin.

It looked rather fake to Loki.

“No, Stark. That’s not where we met.”

“A Kinky Club then?”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should attempt to conquer your city by pretending to be a manwhore, would you be agreeable to that?”

“Now _that_ is a really kinky roleplay.” Stark sighed. “Look, we can gladly talk about us meeting up and doing the do with all your leather later. But I need to get out of here, and don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question. I _noticed_ that.”

“How observant of you.” Loki snorted but he gave Stark a hand and pulled him up from his metallic misery swiftly. There were still parts clinging to his arms and legs but Loki wouldn’t help Stark out there. He let go of Stark’s hand, but quickly had to reach for the fool again as he lost his footing in the sand. It made Loki snicker.

“That’s three of you in one day,” he remarked casually as Stark was stripping himself down rather clumsily. “Tell me, is that normal for you?”

“Three of me in one day?” Stark’s eyes shot to him. “Seriously, you should be grateful for that.”

Then, he had Stark’s hand on his forehead.

The fact that Stark had to get on his toes to reach him there—

“No, you don’t feel boiled. _Three of me in one day_? Are you sure of that? I didn’t see you back in the cave—” Stark stopped and his posture became aggressive. “Are you _one of them?”_ He bit out.

The acerbity in his voice took Loki by surprise. _That_ was the voice he’d been counting on earlier as he’d foolishly addressed Stark. Not _now,_ after he’d helped the other up on his feet and hadn’t made any aggressive move yet.

A sharp-looking metallic part was welded into his direction.

Loki touched it gingerly with a finger and gave it a small shove, hoping that Stark would lose his footing again but alas— no such luck. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and then gifted Stark with a smile of his own.

“I do not know which _them_ you’re speaking of.”

“The Ten Rings.” Stark sounded less aggressive but no less ready to try to impale Loki on his would-do-knife. “Or any other terrorist organisation.”

“A terrorist organisation?” Loki arched an eyebrow. “That would imply structure and a system. No, I have neither nor have I committed to one of those.”

“You could just say _I come in peace_ , and we’d be golden, honey.” Stark sighed. “Alright, so, what are you doing in a desert then? In that outfit, no less?”

“Extreme sport,” Loki replied casually. “I’m here to test my limits and what my body can bear.”

“Without backpacks or anything?” Stark sounded sceptical.

“ _Extreme_ sport, Stark.”

“No, that sounds suicidal, if you ask me. Which _hey,_ you just did. Also, would you mind holding this?” With that, Stark shoved a few parts of his destroyed armour into Loki’s arms before he bent down and collected the other parts by himself. “Very generous. So, what do you propose into what direction we go? I need in about one and a half days _latest_ something to drink. You?”

“I’m—” Loki hesitated, “Good,” he finished slowly. “What are you planning, Stark?”

The other was already sitting down in the sand again and throwing his parts together into the largest whole part of the armour. “A sleigh, or something like it.” A quick glance. “I’m not going to stand around here forever, —?”

Loki smiled blandly.

“Oh c’mon, how’s that supposed to convince me that you’re not an evil guy if you don’t even want to give me your name?”

 _Not an evil guy._ Loki laughed quietly. “My name is Loki.” He dropped his parts into Stark’s sleigh.

“Right. _Loki_. Cool name. Were your parents on a retro trip or just fond of history?”

“Neither,” Loki replied, ignoring the stab of home sickness in his heart. He missed the golden halls of Asgard, Thor’s loud and boisterous laughter, the smell of the sea in the wind and his books in his rooms. That he wasn’t going to enter Asgard anytime soon and definitely not as a _son of Odin,_ or a welcomed guest, he was well aware of that. He had needed to appear as an enemy to Asgard and if his memory served him right, then he _had_ seen Frigga once— not all too long ago either and she—

“Do you want to strip some of your stuff and throw it in here?” Stark’s voice tore him from his heavy musing. “I promise I’m not going to run away with it. It’s probably too big for me anyway.”

“You only want the leather to yourself, admit it.” Loki wagged his finger at Stark.

“Ah, _damn it._ My bad. Yes, I want your leathers, for when we’re out of this desert,” Stark purred at him. “Nothing I want more than to ignore the past six months while getting busy with them.”

_Six months._

Loki turned around to Stark. “Six months?”

“Yeah?” Stark sighed. “Wasn’t a fun time, let me tell you that. How— How did you _not know_ that after you so obviously knew my name?”

“Pre-occupied with different matters.”

“Seems so.”

Stark wasn’t believing him.

Loki wasn’t sure what to believe anymore either.

He’d thought that this Stark was… _his Stark_ , the one from his timeline, not the one in the outdated SHIELD costume, but with a case of amnesia because of the impact. Now Stark told him he’d been in a cave for six months? And if Loki recalled what Barton had told him correctly, then Stark had only been once abducted for such a long time.

“Stark, what year is it?”

“2010, why?”

Loki cursed quietly beneath his breath. “Two years,” he added angrily. “Did it have to be _two years_?”

“Loki?”

“Oh, you—” Loki turned around to Stark, anger boiling inside of him. “Whenever I cross your path, nothing good follows, Stark. Are you here because the Norns wish to test my patience? Because I assure you, I don’t have much of that.” He let a knife appear in his hand.

“ _Alright.”_ Stark raised a hand pacifyingly. “I don’t know what you’re on, Frank Furter, but the only thing that’s testing me is my thirst and my wish to get out of here.”

When nothing came from Loki, Stark added in a low tone, “Put that knife away, Loki.”

He looked at the man in front of him. The man who Loki already _knew_ , knew where his story would go to an extent. The man who’d helped in defeating him, who’d gotten the reference to the drink and hadn’t shied away from showing a reaction despite having been surrounded by his allies. A smirk where Thor’s eyes had been harsh and unforgiven, had placed a gag on him although he’d proclaimed to be brothers only a little bit ago.

_You come home, Loki._

He let the knife disappear. Stark hadn’t deserved to be gutted yet — and as tempting as it was to get the nuisance out of his way, Loki had been rather grateful Stark had been there. From all of them, Stark was probably the only one who could hope to keep up with him.

“The heat really messes with minds,” Stark added gently as if he thought Loki was a confused babe. “For how long have you been out here yet?”

“For too long.” Loki took his cape off and threw it to the metal scraps. He took a bundle of cables and braided them quickly until he had a strong rope and tied it to the sleigh.

“I don’t even know how to tell you how glad I am that you _braided_ them and didn’t decide to knot them.”

“Not everyone is an idiot, Stark.”

“That’s so sexy of you.” Stark batted with his eyelashes at him.

Loki rolled his eyes, ignored the small smile which curled on his lips.

Stark quickly braided his own rope and added it to the other side of the sleight; and then they were off and trotting through the desert.

They weren’t fast, Stark had been given short legs in exchange for his never ending waffling but Loki let the man talk. It was better than silence and— He didn’t want to think yet. He could do that later when he knew what in the Norns’ name he was _doing here_. Because Loki was on the run, he wasn’t supposed to walk idly through the desert with the man he’d just gotten away from, he didn’t have the time for a _chat._

But here he was, _chatting_ with Stark. Although the conversation quickly took a turn and they were bickering, insulting each other’s intelligence as if that would lessen the unforgiving heat, the sunrays which were burning the skin off them. Loki cursed that he _didn’t_ have a plan because while Stark was only wearing shirt and trousers, Loki was still in his battle outfit and he could only use a spell not to sweat so often before the soon-to-be-Avenger would grow suspicious of him.

Not that it would make such a big difference at the end because Loki was walking around in leather, and as Stark had so nicely put it earlier, by all rights, he should have fallen over and died of a heat stroke hours ago.

The sun was gradually getting lower, the heat was no less suffocating than earlier but Loki held out hope. Unusual for him, he was aware, but Stark _always_ surprised him with another trail of thoughts he felt like he needed to voice, that he felt the tender beginnings of hope glimmering inside of him. Stark had survived this before once, they would get out of here.

And if not— Then Loki still had the Tesseract hidden in his pockets. He came to an abrupt stop when he heard something in the distance. Not loud yet, not something Stark’s ears could pick up on yet but—

“What’s up?” Stark looked at him with _worry_ in his eyes. Big brown doe eyes, full of worry. _For a stranger._

“Something’s coming,” Loki informed Stark quietly. “I don’t know what but we’ll see in the next few moments.”

“Ah, so you’re Emo-Legolas?”

Loki threw a confused look towards Stark.

“The good hearing,” Stark hurried to explain. “Like Legolas who you know, big blond elf, could hear miles upon miles into the distance and— _Ah,_ remind me to show you a song later.”

“My name is Loki,” Loki explained dryly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?” He didn’t— he wasn’t sure what to think of Stark, who nicknamed him _again._ He _always_ was Loki, Loki Odinson, maybe Loki Laufeyson although the thought at that left a sour taste in Loki’s mouth.

Previously he’d assumed Stark called him _Reindeer Games_ to mock him. The reference to the horned animal on Midgard didn’t fly over Loki’s head after all. But, as far as Loki could tell, Stark wasn’t mocking him _now._ No. It didn’t add up to the worry Loki had seen in Stark’s eyes either. He was the god of lies, and all that he sensed coming from Stark was _sincere—_

Something.

Loki didn’t know exactly what it was, but it didn’t feel like fear or apprehension.

“I am, thanks for asking.” Stark poked him in the side with his elbow. “And—” Stark stopped abruptly, his eyes turned wide like a saucer and he let go of the reign to wave like a madman at the nearing helicopters.

“ _HEY!”_ Stark yelled. “HERE!” He danced around as if all grace he possessed, had evaporated; everything only focused on getting the helicopters on noting him—

_Them._

This was Loki’s chance, wasn’t it?

“Loki, c’mon, do something so they notice us—”

He could disappear now. Stark would be well off, the story would take off from this point on its own, and Loki had the time to do something with himself. Inevitably, he’d meet Stark again. If he met Stark on a day thrice, then for sure would their paths cross again?

A thought shot through his head if he shouldn’t just stay with Stark from the beginning on. Rewrite the story on his own, take fate into his own hand.

“Stark, close your eyes,” Loki said before he realised he’d said something.

“What?” But Stark followed his command, closed his eyes, and Loki threw a green fireball up into the air. It exploded and with the sound, Stark opened his eyes and stared wide-eyed at the green sparks falling around them in the unforgiving heat.

“Now _that_ will get their attention.” Loki looked at Stark smugly.

“Oh, you asshole.” Stark’s laughter rang through the desert. “That’s almost as impressive as my explosion has been.”

“I haven’t seen that one, I cannot judge with good conscience.”

“ _Rude.”_ But Stark was laughing when he said that.

Not too much later, the helicopters arrived near them and a man was running towards Stark, hugging him tightly.

Loki didn’t recognise the man, but he and Stark obviously knew each other, from the way they clang to each other as if they were each other’s saving line.

“Rhodey-bear?” Stark eventually got free from the hug and pointed at Loki, who’d observed the spectacle quietly. “That’s Loki. I found him in the desert. Possibly a heat-stroke. I’m taking him with me.”

“You are?” The sentiment was echoed by the other man, _Rhodey-bear._

“Yes.”

And that was the story of how Loki found himself voluntarily in a helicopter with Stark after he’d just escaped the man in another timeline.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take them long to fly to the States. Loki couldn’t stop laughing inwardly that he was doing this voluntarily – going back to the place of his defeat that happened only a few hours ago and yet, had never transpired for Stark. Since they’d chartered the jet, Stark had grown quieter, was downing a glass of scotch after the other. His friend, James, was watching him carefully. He also had an eye on him, but Loki wasn’t doing anything that screamed danger.

He let them believe he’d suffered a heat stroke in the desert and been kidnapped as he was having a photoshoot.

 _Extreme sports,_ Stark had reiterated but there’d been a different undertone to it. Loki was content letting Stark and his friend believe what they wanted. If the truth became known eventually, nobody could say that Loki _hadn’t_ said the truth; one of the first things he’d done was to confess to trying to conquer New York.

What was less enjoyable was to see how Stark was sliding through his fingers and withdrawing from him. Loki could see why this was happening but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it, no less, that he needed to tolerate it. That he came with Stark had been Stark’s idea, not his own. He was only going along with it to see where the ride would take him.

He played briefly with the thought to jump out of the plane and disappear, leave Stark hanging and wondering—

It would be hilarious to see Stark in two years again, when he was trying to take over New York. Oh, Loki could see the face in front of him; the barely hidden shock, betrayal flashing in those wide eyes, and trying to play it off as if Loki’s acting wasn’t hurting him.

But no, not _yet_. There was still mischief to be had and Loki was going to exploit it for as long as he could.

Loki got up from his seat, walked to where Stark was and sat down on his other free side.

“Are you finally joining us?” Stark asked, his face wrinkled with laughter.

“I napped.”

“Good for you.” Stark heaved a sigh. “Do you want something to drink? I’m sure there’s water too.” He wanted to get up but his friend held him back on the seat.

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks.” Stark rolled his eyes.

With James gone, Stark’s attention was focused on Loki entirely.

“So, tell me, Loki. Where are you from?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” Stark raised the glass to his lips. “I’ve heard a lot of things in my life and just escaped from a terrorist organisation and found a lost model in the desert by pure coincidence.”

“You could say I’m homeless,” Loki offered. “I haven’t been home in a while.” He let his eyes wander around the plane. “And I don’t think they’d want me back.”

Stark hummed thoughtfully and patted Loki’s thigh. “Families are always a source of tragedy.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Absolutely.” Stark offered Loki his glass and he took it, emptied it then as well. But when he wanted to give it back to Stark, the man shook his head. “Keep it. And don’t tell Rhodey you drank it instead of me.”

“I wouldn’t dare to betray you like that.” Loki added a suggestive wink to that, relaxing when he heard Stark chuckle. He was finally back on track. Stark’s focus was back on him.

They kept talking quietly until Rhodey came back – in his hands a bottle of water, a glass, and what looked like clothes. He offered it all to Loki. “If you want to get rid of the sand, there’s a small bathroom at the rear, to the right.”

 _Sand._ Loki offered a quick thanks. Right, they were under the assumption he was still full of sand. They hadn’t stayed long enough at the military base to have more than a medical examination, the other jet was already waiting for them and Stark wanted to get away from the desert. Loki had agreed with that sentiment.

He changed in the bathroom, took his time in stripping himself down, washed himself with the small cloths that were laying around. But he found himself wanting to get back to Stark. The man was intriguing company. His mouth, so fast that Loki enjoyed having trouble keeping up with what he was saying, as he took turns and started a new thought when the old one wasn’t fully talked about yet.

Had someone told Loki yesterday that _Stark_ was going to turn into his most recent fascination, he would have called them a liar. Never in his wildest dreams had he dared to imagine that this would happen, and he’d gotten away from his inevitable fate as well.

It was— Loki felt lighter than in a long while when that realisation made itself home in his head. He was free to cause mischief once more, without having someone breathing down his neck, observing every step he was taking, judging, and reporting back to someone else.

He rolled his own wardrobe together after he’d stepped into the comfortable pants; they were a fraction too small for him, his ankles were bare to the world and the socks too small to cover him there. It was almost uncomfortable for him to leave the bathroom like this – he hated to show bare spots as he was more vulnerable so. Not, that he feared these Midgardians could seriously hurt him without the Iron Man suit but it was a warrior’s thought ingrained into his mind. Some ideas weren’t as easily as disregarded as others.

But there was no other choice, so Loki took his belongings in his arms and walked out of the bathroom. That Midgardians _had_ bathrooms in a plane was ingenious, and preferable to stopping in midst of a ride and disappearing behind a tree to relieve yourself.

“You look great,” were Stark’s first words when Loki joined the quiet round again. “Seriously. I’m offended. How dare you look so good after we walked through a desert for a day together and were pulling a sleigh? Where’s the haggard look I was promised?”

“I’m a god,” Loki replied, not being able to resist. “I always look great.” A warm feeling was spreading through him.

“You can just say thank you, you conceited creature.” Stark rolled his eyes at him. “We all know that I’m the most handsome among us.”

“Don’t say anything,” his friend cut in, “he won’t stop bothering you about it otherwise.”

“You make for a good third among us,” Loki told Stark with a winning smile. “But it is still better than to be the fourth.”

“You wound me.”

“Oh no,” Loki said deadpan. “I sure hope you’ll survive.”

“Why did I take you with me again?”

“Because you liked my handsome face.” Loki leaned back into the couch. It was more comfortable than most benches on Asgard were.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t your winning personality.”

Loki shot a glare at Stark before he settled in more. The last time he’d been in a plane, they’d strapped him into a seat, and it had been amusing to watch as the Avengers realised that either they asked him to put the belts on by himself or one of them would need to do it. Loki had solved the issue by doing it by himself but it had been fun to watch nonetheless.

He offered Stark a compliment about his plane and let the conversation trod into another direction. James was asking about the imprisonment with the Ten Rings, Loki listened attentively. It was possible he was going to need that later. He still didn’t have any concrete plans yet but he didn’t need to have any. Stark was good at improvising plans that involved Loki.

_What had the other Stark tried to accomplish?_

Loki turned one ear to Stark as he was sneakily evading the topic but another name fell from his lips: _Ho Yinsen._ He didn’t make it out and the guilt was gnawing at Stark like a hungry wolf. But Loki’s thoughts were circling around the other Stark, the one who’d stood there and watched, then wanted to take off with the Tesseract. _Yes,_ he’d recognised the man – it wasn’t difficult. He knew how the man walked, the size and stature were the same. Effective disguises weren’t something Stark did – no, he only threw on a badly fitted SHIELD costume and called it a job done.

Stark and his friend eventually fell asleep, their soft huffs of breath mixed into the low humming of the jet engines. They were flying for a few hours more before they’d reach the States. Loki missed the Bifrost and its speed – the slow travel was certainly good for older people that they wouldn’t break their bones or stumble when they arrived at their destination but—

Maybe he needed to stop complaining. He got up as carefully as possible, so he didn’t wake either of his sleeping compatriots and walked to a bigger window. It was dark outside, clouds were below them, heavy and grey, in the distance he saw stars shine brightly. Nothing was disturbing their travel. Nobody had their eyes on Loki, there were no pressing tasks laid on his shoulders either.

He called his green cape to himself, wrapped it around him and closed his eyes. After everything done, he needed a break too and sleep looked like a formidable solution.

—

Watching people when they thought they weren’t observed, was a subject Loki took great interest in. It gave him the opening to study someone, see how they were when they were for themselves. That most would view it as a breach of privacy – he was aware of that. But he’d been raised as a prince of Asgard, he didn’t have an ounce of solitude either. What he had was stolen time which he took whenever possible, buried his nose in books and scrolls, went hunting with Thor.

His eyes were resting on Stark; how he carefully chose sunglasses while they still were in the jet. Loki was sitting silently in his seat; his bundle of clothes next to him, still full of sand. He wasn’t surprised to see that Stark went for the biggest ones available in the plane. No, he’d counted on that because they were back in the States and out there, someone was waiting for Stark and the public would want to hear about the returned hero soon as well.

Stark took a deep breath, turned around to Loki and gave him a nod, inviting him to follow down the rampage.

The sun was shining. It was by no means, any less warm than it had been in Afghanistan, but this time it didn’t feel as if Loki’s skin was flayed out in the open.

“Are those tears for your long-lost boss?”

Loki hadn’t expected anything else than a quip either from Stark. He wasn’t sure who this woman was. She hadn’t been important in his planning, Barton had neglected to mention her, not deeming her important enough for the great undertaking. A quick look around took Loki by surprise – if anything, then he’d expected cameras and hundreds of people gathered at the airport, welcoming the hero back home. The only people around were the personnel though and barely anyone used the opportunity to gawk at Stark.

“That’s Loki, by the way,” Stark introduced him shortly after with a smile. “I picked him up in the desert. He probably cost some people a lot of ransom.”

“I’m Virginia Potts.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Loki replied warmly and took the offered hand. “And you’re Stark’s wife, I suppose?”

“Oh god, no.” She laughed. “That would only end in a disaster. I’m his PA, I get paid by him to boss him around.”

“A much better position,” Loki agreed. “That means you can leave him anytime.”

Stark made a sound of protest behind him.

“Happy is waiting,” Virginia informed them. “We’ll take you both to the hospital.”

“Loki, yes – not for me though. I want you to call in a press conference, Pepper.”

 _A press conference?_ Loki had to admit he hadn’t seen that decision coming. He followed Stark, slowing down so he wouldn’t take over the small group that was walking through the airport.

“Why are you calling me Stark _still_?” Stark turned to him, irritated. “It’s Tony, for fuck’s sake.”

“Tony.” Loki hummed. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“I do.” The irritation was starting to fade from Tony’s voice, but it was still wavering in the air. Loki wondered whether that was from being called Stark or because someone was waving obnoxiously at them with a tissue. “Thanks. That’s Happy, if you don’t know yet. Do you mind sitting in the back? Also, do you mind if we get you to the hospital after the conference?”

“Not at all. I don’t mind delaying the inevitable.”

“Not a fan of hospitals either, I take it?”

Loki shook his head. He needed to find a way to get around seeing the hospital. For now, he was looking forward to seeing what Tony had planned. It vexed him that he couldn’t remember if Barton had mentioned a press conference. Perhaps it hadn’t been interesting enough, as Loki had insisted on the vital aspects from every of the Avengers, what made them into them and where they could get dangerous for him.

A press conference wasn’t a threat to him.

“Finally someone who understands that hospitals are evil,” Tony grumbled.

The drive was only interrupted by Tony’s insistence on getting a cheeseburger. Loki got one of them as well, and he couldn’t deny his fascination for the greasy food. It was like the food deliveries Barton had brought and fed most of them.

When they arrived, a mob was already awaiting them. This was what Loki had counted on at the airport, and as the cameras flashed up as they walked into the building, he understood why Tony needed the sunglasses. The constant lighting up was annoying him, it burned him in the eyes mildly.

Loki wasn’t disappointed by the conference. He watched curiously how easy it was for Tony to command the room’s attention, how eager everyone was swallowing up his words. There were no interruptions, only one person spoke – and that was Tony, nobody else. The only disturbance happened when Tony announced he was going to shut the weapon manufacturing down.

Chaos was descending over the room, spreading like a wildfire. Loki could feel his seiðr tingling in excitement, and he himself could barely hold himself quiet either—

 _Chaos._ It was beautiful to watch the mortals fall over themselves, stumbling almost over themselves as they tried to get to the door first while someone had claimed the podium, trying to undo the damage.

Loki made his way to Tony who was getting out on the back on swift feet. “Tony!”

“Loki!” Tony stopped and turned around to him. “What did you think?”

“It was wonderfully chaotic,” Loki answered truthfully. A small chuckle burst from his lips. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while.” Tony shrugged, trying to come off as casual but Loki didn’t buy it. _Nobody_ would be unbothered by doing this, even less so when it had been a long time coming. “Kind of didn’t want to be responsible for more weapons after—” Tony waved around with his hands, pointing at nothing and nowhere but Loki understood.

“Does it make you feel better?” He asked sincerely.

“Of course.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, stayed silent though. _Lies_.

“No, really.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tony.” Loki frowned. “Not all decision must feel great even when they’re done with the purest intentions.”

“You should never become a motivational speaker,” Tony replied dryly. “Because you suck at them.”

“I don’t wish to overstep my boundaries.”

“Overstep.” Tony snorted. “Overstep all you want. My godfather is out there and trying to undo what I said because he doesn’t trust me that I know what I’m doing.”

“He’s your godfather?”

“Yeah.” Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s a good man, took care of me after Jarvis and my parents were no more. I trust him with my life.”

“And yet, he’s doing his best to hamper what you decided on.”

They started to walk again, Loki following Tony’s lead through the building.

The silence felt fragile between them. Each step was echoing loudly in the hallway and Tony was lost in his own head. Loki was debating whether to speak up or not – he couldn’t be sure if Tony’s godfather had been around during 2012 but he’d been informed by Barton that Tony had trust issues that went unparalleled. They _had_ to be coming from somewhere. So far, Tony hadn’t been _immensely_ suspicious of him; most likely there was a tiny fraction of Tony that was already trusting Loki because they’d bonded in the desert.

That reminded him, he needed to figure out how he was allowed to stay with Tony when he had no backstory, no _nothing_. _Midgardians,_ so distrustful when you didn’t have papers to prove where you belonged to and what your name was. Mayhap Loki could get hold of a paper and make his own.

But— _this_ was a marvellous opportunity to either deepen the bond between them or destroy it. If he was to arouse a flicker of distrust in Obi and it would prove to be true—

“Are you sure that you can trust your godfather?” Loki asked, out of the blue. The decision had been made. He didn’t feel bad about it, not at all.

“Is this you overstepping?” Tony asked with a brittle laugh.

“This is me asking you if you’re sure about this.” Loki came to a stop and touched Tony’s shoulders. “You said it yourself, that you’ve been a long time in captivity. You don’t want to shut down your weapon manufacturing because you think it makes for a tremendous joke.” He was searching contact with Tony’s eyes, held it when he eventually got it. “If he is your godfather and took care of you; shouldn’t he then trust you as well?”

There was a sparkle in Tony’s eyes, cold and bitter. “He’s a businessman first.”

“But is it not called _Stark Industries?”_ Loki goaded the other.

The cold spark grew. “You’re right,” Tony muttered.

Loki swallowed a _I know_ down. It wouldn’t do any good to gloat openly, he had to keep quiet. But this was a step into the right direction.

“I think it would be for the best if you kept an eye on him and what he said, now that you’ve left the room,” Loki advised gently. “Because if he’s sure you trust him, then he won’t think that you are mistrusting him.”

Tony was silent for a moment, pondering Loki’s words. “You’re well versed in how people work, aren’t you, Loki?”

“Indeed.” Loki chuckled quietly, noting how Tony’s eyes narrowed before he saw a smile curling on his lips. He wondered where Tony’s thoughts were taking him. He decided to throw another bait. “One could say, it is my profession to judge other’s characters.”

“Could you differentiate between a liar and an honest person?”

“Yes. It might take me a moment but usually, I can.”

“You’re not staying anywhere yet, are you, Loki?”

“No.” He arched a brow.

“How do you feel about staying with me?” Tony’s voice turned serious. “I could need someone with your skillset.”

 _That had been easier than thought._ “It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Loki had an affinity for chaos – it came with the title of being the god of said attribute. But being in chaos, _stifling it_ even, made him feel more at peace than when he was forced to comply and work with rules. He loved improvising on his plans, no matter how Thor-proof they were because normal plans never gave him the thrill that he needed.

No matter how unpleasant his time with the Mad Titan had been, Loki had adored playing conqueror of New York. Had his own little army, people who followed his every step and didn’t mouth back at him. The goal had been to secure the Tesseract from the Midgardians and open a portal for the Titan’s soldiers – nowhere had it been stated in the contract that he had to _succeed._ And Loki didn’t enjoy being held prisoner for a long, long while, and to be treated with such politeness that he’d sworn to pay the favour back tenfold.

What people often underestimated was that chaos and mischief went hand in hand, one easily opened the door for the other to follow through and Loki loved being the key to accomplish that in the first place.

Therefore, it was no surprise that being around Tony was to him as if his chaos had found a home – Tony had only needed to announce his company would no longer create weapons and the whole _world_ seemed to be in uproar.

Loki was watching the news, took note of how everyone was predicting the end of Tony’s reign as if he was already more important to the Norns than Loki could have imagined. As far as Loki was concerned, it couldn’t be _such_ a big deal if one person announced the end of weapons. If one smith stopped working on Asgard, a new one was soon found. The world carried on – but it didn’t seem to be the case here which raised several questions.

However, Loki knew better than to ask. Instead, he kept watching the news; a man who returned from captivity and looked like he was _rehabilitated_? Loki had to put the laptop down at that. That someone was becoming a better man by putting an end to the delivery of war tools, that would be unheard of on Asgard. Simply _not done_ , it was only war, bloodshed, more political enemies that needed to be taken care of, another rebellion from a realm that Thor and Loki quickly put an end to as it was their duty to their king.

But he’d done far more than just watch news. No, Loki was almost obsessed with figuring out how Tony had got into his mishap in Afghanistan – he didn’t believe that there was such a thing as _coincidence_. That Tony was abducted on a simple business trip where he presented a new weapon, then was held captive for months for Loki to meet him, to stop producing weapons where he encountered resistance, despite being the leader of the company?

No, something didn’t add up there. If Loki combined that with his suspicion of Obadiah, how quick the other was to undo Tony’s decision because he wasn’t to be _trusted_ , well then—

The case was frighteningly clear, wasn’t it? Loki had enjoyed reading up on Tony’s disappearance, his life as far as he could follow on the internet, feeling like he was getting to know the public persona of Tony Stark. There were talks of him being a _child prodigy_ , not an unseeable number of accomplishments he’d made as a young man and as grown man. And while nobody said that Tony Stark was no longer a genius, the opinion about him had swayed.

From fawning over him, there was judgement, harsh and unrelentless. Discussions about whether he was capable of leading a company when all that Tony Stark was interested in was sex and doing whatever he wanted.

Oh, Loki hated that he thought he could relate. To be praised first for one’s mind and intellect, then judged vehemently when interests changed and one didn’t perform how society wished one would. The only difference Loki found was that Tony Stark had more admirers left than Loki had friends on Asgard – there was also a stable net of friends around him, from day one unlike Loki.

He’d learned the hard way that he was on his own. That he was nobody’s son, only a tool – for political reasons, for darker machinations – it didn’t _matter_. What was important was that he was someone’s instrument, wielded bluntly without greater foresight as long as something got hit.

Loki abruptly got up from the couch. Restlessness was eating at him, and he wanted to find his chaos, get distracted—

“JARVIS, where can I find Tony?” He walked towards the kitchen, nicking an apple from the fruit bowl.

“ _Sir is in his workshop downstairs. If you don’t mind giving him a hand in a delicate matter, please hurry up.”_

Loki loved nothing better than to help someone out. He hurried back into the vast living room, ignored the elegant piano to his left and went down the stairs on the right. Loki stared at the waterfall for a moment as he descended, admiring the craftsmanship behind it. Occasionally it came as a shock to him how advanced Midgardians were, not that he’d been in doubt about their progress over time. But taming water and putting it inside of a house? That was something he was used to from the elves on Alfheim.

He ran his fingers through the water before he continued his way down.

The glass door to the workshop was unlocked. Since they’d arrived here two days ago, Loki hadn’t been allowed down here except for when he’d picked up his outfit from the desert. He hadn’t missed Tony’s speculative gaze on his back, the pondering silence as he took the vambraces and the heavy garment and brought it back upstairs to his room.

He’d seen Tony then at the dinner, before the man had decided to go back into his workshop to work on his suit and get his affairs into order. Loki had let him, kept his distance, and honoured Tony’s silent order to leave him be for the moment.

The better outcome of this was that Tony was aware now that Loki would respect his wishes – unlike Obadiah, who’d stormed into the mansion yesterday but left as soon as it came apparent that Tony was busy and would not come back upstairs and only Loki was around to deal with. The triumphant feeling that rushed through Loki as he saw the success of the seedlings of doubt he’d planted in Tony’s mind was indescribable. He almost fainted on spot, too.

Obadiah couldn’t stand the sight of him. His eyes narrowed at him like he was nothing but vermin; a blatant challenge in that cold, calculated gaze which made Loki all the more confident that something was up with the man. But he’d let Tony discover that all for himself. He was a genius.

Said genius was waving at him impatiently from a chair. His chest bare and a strange contraption was embedded inside his sternum.

“Is that normal for you to have?” Loki asked as he stepped closer.

“A hole in my chest?” Tony asked with a grin.

Loki gave a nod, his hand hovering above the metal ring.

“Well, most people think I don’t have a heart, so I’d say, yeah. That’s normal for me. One of a kind, you know.”

Loki searched for Tony’s eyes, as the statement was too blasé in his opinion. He found no humour sparkling in them. “Then most people are wrong,” Loki replied softly. “You’ve taken me with you when you had no reason to and are housing me.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony waved him off. “Time you pay your due for that, Loki.” He cut a grimace. “To make a long story short, I need you to reach inside of my chest.”

“Tony, I’m sure you have a heart, I don’t need to touch it.”

Tony rolled his eyes at him but there was finally a smile playing at his lips. “I need you to install the new arc reactor. Can’t run around with a reactor made from a car battery forever, can I?”

Loki cast a look around the workshop, his gaze lingering on the cars for a moment. “I don’t think you’d mind being a car that much.”

“Rude.” Tony pressed something into Loki’s hand. It was a small object, cold and circular – the perfect size to fit it inside the other ring. “Pull the other thing out, that one inside, don’t tear anything because otherwise I’ll go into cardiac arrest and _nobody_ wants that.”

Loki’s heartbeat was racing as he reached over Tony and pulled the lamp so that he got a better look at Tony’s inside. His _literal_ inside. “Do you want a count?” he asked, eyeing the metal disk inside.

“No, just do it,” Tony gritted out. “The quicker it’s over, the sooner we can order pizza.”

 _Pizza._ Loki nodded, put the reactor into his left hand and reached inside of Tony with his right. He was careful in his procedure, trying not to touch the outer casing of the metal, his hand folded together so that it was as small as possible. He didn’t want to make it slimmer with the use of his seiðr – not when he couldn’t be sure what would happen. And no matter how much Loki loved mischief, he didn’t want to see Tony dead. Then, he touched liquid and he kept his mouth shut, only shot an alarmed look at Tony who nodded for him to keep going.

Loki pulled the metal disk out quickly, put it down on Tony and placed the new reactor in, tugged his hand out.

_Done._

Tony sighed loudly. “Thank you. My hands were too big to do that.” He quickly covered himself up with a shirt.

Loki stared at the metal disk he’d just pulled out of Tony. It was another reactor.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Yes.” Loki took the reactor in his hand, gave it a quick short look over. “This is an amazing feat, Tony.”

“It is.” Tony grinned at him. There was no longer any trace of the man who’d just let a _stranger_ touch his insides and was vulnerable to him, whose life had been in Loki’s hands for a short moment. No, instead there was Tony Stark again, confident, and ready to exchange banter at any given possibility, who prided himself in his work. “Have you ever heard about the arc reactor technology?”

“To my regret, I haven’t.” Loki didn’t let go of the reactor. It soothed him, having it in his palm where it fit snugly, almost as if it was made for him to hold. It was still warm. “Would you mind telling me more about it?” Because Loki was interested in hearing more about it – and it was also better for him to stay focused than to divagate into how much trust he was shown here.

Perhaps it was a trick, to lure him into a false sense of security.

“Sure.” Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Over dinner? I’m literally _starving_.”

—

Dinner was lovely. They quickly went from talking about science and arc reactors – Tony’s _pride and joy_ – to their usual banter, which then converted smoothly to flirty remarks over how good oily fingers could be in certain situations.

The pizza itself was good, not _great,_ but Tony made up for Loki’s lack of enthusiasm on his own. It reminded Loki of Thor although Tony was a better host and had more table manners. But Loki enjoyed it well enough to keep eating. There was beer as well. It was surprisingly good, an _Iron City Beer_ as it was called. The irony of the name wasn’t lost on Loki.

“Tony?” someone yelled, and interrupted Tony and him in their discussion about what oily fingers could be good for. Loki had just mentioned that they were good for messing up someone’s hair and as Tony was searching fervently for a rejoinder, the yell was his rescue. “You there?”

“Obi?” Tony yelled back, frustration audible in his voice.

Loki still had the arc reactor, although he’d stored it inside of his pockets. That was _his now,_ Tony had told him he could have it since he wouldn’t need it any longer.

“Tony.” The older man came into view, a pizza carton in his hands as if he’d been planning on playing host in Tony’s own house. Loki noticed how the other placed himself so that he was excluding Loki from the conversation. It was almost adorable, the tricks he tried. “We need to talk about the press conference.”

“Ah.” Loki heard the mocking tone from Tony, saw how his face changed rapidly. “If you think so, then be my guest.”

Loki got the feeling that he was missing out on some data – he didn’t believe that Tony would already be this hostile just because of what he’d said. No, not if this man was supposedly that important to Tony’s life. But he kept quiet, watched only, chewing on his piece of pizza.

“Your announcement cost SI several stock market points,” Obadiah said bluntly, putting the pizza carton down with an unnecessary amount of force. “And it _will_ keep dropping unless you get this back under control.”

“I have it under control,” Tony replied.

“No, you don’t, Tony. The board wants actions, clear directions as to where the company is headed. You’ve been back for two days after being in captivity for much too long, are you sure you know what you’re doing? You’re not playing only with your fortune here, Tony. There’s much more at stake than you can imagine.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, catching Tony’s eyes.

“I’m not playing around, Obi,” Tony declared, boldness and confidence in his bones. “I have a plan.”

“And that would be? You need to get it into your head that this is a serious matter. We cannot afford to lose—”

Loki watched with morbid fascination as Tony’s hand wandered up to his collar with the clear intention of unbuttoning the shirt. Obadiah was watching him like a vulture, and the arc reactor sat heavily in Loki’s pockets. The decision was made within seconds. There’d been a branch of trust extended to him, a vital one, and Loki wouldn’t let go that unrecognised.

He rammed his leg up against the table. A beer bottle fell over. The yellow liquid sloshed all over the table.

Tony slid back, trying not to get wet, and Loki gasped in feigned shock.

 _“Fuck!”_ Tony’s hands were far from his collar, the arc reactor safe for a while longer.

“My apologies,” Loki said, embarrassed, and reached for the spilled bottle. “I miscalculated. Did you get hit?”

“I need to change my shirt. We’ll talk about this later, Obi.” Tony left at that, shaking his head.

“Again, my sincere apologies,” Loki repeated. He collected the plates and tableware, ignoring the irate looks burning into his side. “We’ll see each other tomorrow for dinner then?”

It was a clear dismissal.

Tony came back shortly after Obadiah had left, seemingly looking for his godfather.

“He’s coming back tomorrow,” Loki informed him. “To dinner.”

“He left already?” Tony frowned at him. “That’s unusual for him. Normally, he’s like a shark when he wants to know something.”

“Oh, my apologies. I thought the party was over.” Loki smiled and pointed at the empty table. “After all, the host left, and your godfather is not what I would call splendiferous company.”

“You told him to leave, didn’t you?”

Loki eyed Tony, he didn’t seem angry, more amused. Perhaps at Loki’s gall to take charge as soon as Tony left the room? “Did you want him to stay?”

Tony waved him off. “That’s not the important part. I’m more interested why you stopped me from revealing the reactor to Obi? What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours, Loki?”

 _Everything._ Loki’s head was like a maelstrom of thoughts, thousands of different scenarios were playing off right now. “I don’t think it would be wise to show him what is keeping you alive,” Loki eventually managed to say. “Not if you still don’t know why he would go back on your words about your company.”

Tony’s face froze. “Do you want to expand upon that some more? That’s a pretty grave accusation you’re flinging.”

He couldn’t keep from showing his surprise at the realisation that Tony had got the message; that Obadiah wasn’t above hurting him. How long would it take him to connect the dots though?

“Think about it,” Loki said quietly, his words like a poised dagger. “Who would win if you were… _lost_ in Afghanistan?”

There was nothing. A blank face, a wall of unreadable emotions behind another wall.

“That bastard,” Tony eventually whispered. His hands were covering the arc reactor as if to protect it, now. “I can’t believe it.”

Loki’s touch on Tony’s shoulder was full of compassion, the squeeze filled with pity, _sympathy_. He knew how it felt to find out you were nothing but a convenient tool to someone you loved from the bottom of your heart, wanted them only to love you as much as you loved them, but were content with scraps of their attention too.

“I need to take a look into his files so I can be certain,” Loki quietly said. “As do you, I fear.”

Tony nodded. “If you’re right, then–“ He gave a short laugh. Cold. The sound of someone whose heart got ripped from their sternum. “Grab something to drink, there’s homework waiting for us in the workshop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki said, "I'll change the plot of Iron Man," and now here we are. Will be. Are going to see :D  
> My undying gratitude to **NamelesslyNightlock** who made sure this chapter flows and looks pretty ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

Whiskey sounded like a proper choice of drink; Loki knew it was one of Tony’s favourite beverages. He served them both a few inches of it, the golden liquid gleaming warmly in the yellow light from the ceiling. They toasted to each other in silence which was only disturbed by the gentle _clink_ of their glasses.

It was an infinitesimal moment of peace before they would dive into the files – Loki didn’t doubt their search would end up fruitful. He knew how people worked – most of them, Tony was one of those enigmas that didn’t _always_ do as he wanted them to – but he was assured to have got a decent reading on Obadiah. Loki also didn’t _want_ to be wrong about this.

It was a matter of pride, to prove he could do what he promised. He was Loki Liesmith, Silvertongue, the god of mischief, a mere mortal who sought power would not pull one over him. But perhaps it also was that he didn’t wish to disappoint Tony, to prove himself to the faith placed in him.

It had been so long since someone had trusted Loki like that. Not that Tony took him by his word and let him have his fun, no, Tony was too clever for that – but the sting of betrayal when Loki had rightfully sat upon Hliðskjalf only for Asgard’s warriors to turn upon him, not trusting him for even a _minute_ of the day. The Titan, who had The Other spy on Loki, not trusting him an inch, no matter whether Loki cared if Midgard fell or not, as long as the Tesseract wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands.

Tony called for JARVIS to bring up the holograms before he looked at Loki pointedly.

“This is your game,” Tony said, shoving the blue screens to Loki with a flick of his hand. “Give me proof.”

“Are you not scared of the outcome?” Loki asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He tapped the files’ icon. “If I’m right?”

“I’ll worry about that when it comes to it,” Tony replied calmly. “It won’t do me any good to freak out now.”

“I can support that decision,” Loki muttered quietly, his eyes locked onto the screen. He preferred Tony’s calmness to Thor’s brazen and loud attitude. If the oaf were here, he’d scream and yell for retribution, not even caring for proof because the situation was clear, wasn’t it?

Since the situation called for some trickery because Loki didn’t want to spend all night in the workshop, he used his seiðr to search for anything _corrupt._ He ended up soon in the _private files_ , ones that Obadiah would wish he’d have deleted earlier. That some people didn’t get rid of evidence wasn’t comprehensible to Loki, but who was he to judge a mere mortal, aiming to play amongst gods?

His fingertips prickled when he ran them over a file, saved as _.mov_

“A video?” Tony said as he stepped up to his side. His arm was brushing against Loki’s carefully. “Pull it up, Jay.”

Loki stared at the screen with hold breath. Tony next to him had gone quiet when they realised who the dirty, bruised man bound to a chair was. Several weapons were pointing into his face, another person was reading from a paper out loud.

_They want ransom money._ And not a little only, no. Loki thought that the people in the video _knew_ who they had with them, and what his worth was. They knew. His gaze lingered on the beaten Tony Stark, who looked around the room, into the camera, who did not understand what he was seeing – a look Loki often saw on people who’d made acquaintance with Mjölnir on a turbulent weekend.

“This was on Obi’s files?” The pained sound came from Tony. His hand was clutching the glass as if it was an anchor. “They sent it to him, and he did _nothing?”_

It was unexpected, how deep that cut Loki. He remembered, after his fall, how he had begged, _implored_ for someone to come to his rescue. When the heat had been licking away at his face, when sleep had turned into just another fantasy, so far away like the golden realm was. He’d screamed for Thor, for his mother, even for _Odin,_ until his voice had turned hoarse, were nothing more but a whisper in a harsh reality.

Tony Stark’s fate seemed was not so unlike his. Anger rose in him. He didn’t want to relate to _Iron Man._ The man was after all, the reason why Loki’s spine had gotten shattered, had been an aide in his humiliation and spoke no word of mercy when Thor silenced and shackled him like a common criminal. No words of brotherhood were spoken anymore.

All the hope that Loki used to have, that Thor would eventually relent, use this big head of his for something _good_ , burnt like his skin had been flayed.

But when Loki looked at Tony, he _still_ saw a part of himself there. The betrayal tore the heart apart as if it was made of candy. The abandonment, the realisation that the man you thought of as your _father_ didn’t love you, that you were nothing to him. Just, a nuisance.

“Call Pepper,” Tony ordered, not even blinking. “And sent the video to the FBI agents and whoever else could need it. Obadiah gets removed from Stark Industries, and put my lawyers on this, I want him to see the sky only from the insides of a prison for the near future.”

_“Of course, Sir.”_

Tony turned to him. Didn’t say anything for a heartbeat, probably processing the fact that Loki had been _right_ , that there was someone close to him who wanted him only foul. Someone who wished him death and torture.

“I need to talk with Pepper about a few things. Clear this all up. I want to show you something after if you want to?” He was fidgeting with his hands. For all that Tony’s face was calm like the winter, his body still gave him away somehow.

“I’d be honoured,” Loki replied quietly.

—

Pepper was ruthless. Where she looked like a wind would blow her over, thin as she was, no matter how stern the clothes looked which she wore. But as soon as Tony had told her about Obadiah’s betrayal and shown proof, she turned into a spear, and attacked.

A handful of moments later, Obadiah Stane had been arrested for attempted murder, kidnapping, and double dealing. They toasted to his successful arrest, Pepper left shortly after under the excuse that she needed to organise matters with the board and get hold of the PR-Team.

Tony Stark was _burning_ with the need to destroy something. Loki recognised the look and getting more of the bubbly taste of champagne was soon forgotten over following Tony down into his workshop. It was quiet, down there – as unusual as Thor not having hunger was.

“Remember the suit you met me in?” Tony asked him.

“The pile of scrap?”

Tony tried his best to kill him with his look, Loki merely smiled in response indulgently, motioning Tony to expand upon his foreword. A one-liner never satisfied Loki, he adored the follow-ups, adoring the _buts_ and _nonetheless_ more than an ordinary Ás did.

“That _pile of scrap_ , as you so charmingly put it, you ass, has been perfected.” Tony’s glare turned into a look of pride. “Careful, now,” he added before the ground around him parted. It fell away in a controlled manner, mechanical arms descended from everywhere. It was graceful – a performance, planned into the smallest detail. The way everything fit perfectly onto Tony’s body, the whole armour moulded to it. The precise art of each screw turned tight, not a single flinch on Tony’s face, not a strand of hair out of place. The glowing aura of smugness that surrounded him —

Loki refused to believe he was having goosebumps. It was a performance. But the way the visor fell shut, the blue glow in those eyes? There was a shiver of excitement. Loki knew the future, knew it was in his hands, the threads there to change them and to lead the story onto a path he wished the walk. Tony Stark was a puppet between his fingers, but one that Loki didn’t want to see hurt. He wouldn’t call him a _toy_ , or a pet – merely _his._

There was power in the room, infinite potential, just _waiting_ to be given nudges here and there, a muse to be inspired by. Loki didn’t think he’d ever been a source of inspiration before but that was easily solved. There was knowledge whirling through his mind that was full of Tony Stark’s armours, his weapons, his _character_ – a clean assessment from Tony’s own future-teammate.

“This is incredible,” Loki admitted in a whisper, and he didn’t only mean the armour. _The second Iron Man._ “This is what you have been working on since we got back?”

“Yes.” The visor went up, revealing Tony’s face to him once more, no longer hidden behind the golden metal. “I meant it when I said I have a plan. And what Obadiah did–“ He let the sentence fade away. “He sold _my weapons,”_ he then snarled. “Betrayed the trust I had in him.”

Loki nodded. His eyes were running over the scarlet red, the polished gold. He felt like he was staring at the other Iron Man, his hands already twitching to get out a knife, to shove into a small crack of the breathing weapon. “Do you know where to start?”

“First, I need to do a test-run,” Tony admitted, not an ounce of shame for that admittance in his voice. “I can’t take anyone out if I can’t fly this baby.”

“True enough.” Loki stepped forward, to shove Tony back from where he was standing with force. He stumbled a step or two back.

“The hell, Loki?”

He tilted his head. “You’ll need to strengthen your core if you mean to fly that. After all, this is how you fly, is it not?”

“That’s why I’ve been exercising lately.” Tony looked at him weirdly. “Are you always that strong?”

“Often,” Loki replied lightly.

“Right.” Tony’s eyebrows shot up, almost up into his hairline. “Because you just shoved some 400lbs around like it’s nothing.”

_Oh._ Loki shrugged. “You weren’t expecting it, good timing. Mayhap your abdominal muscles aren’t as strong as you believe they are.” _Note to himself; Midgardians are weak infants, wearing adults’ kyrtill._

“Maybe.” Tony was hesitant. Yet, he quickly flashed Loki a grin, as if he was trying to cover up his suspicion. For a moment, Loki cursed himself. That had been stupid of him, no doubt but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Because this opened new endless possibilities how this would go – and abrupt changes to his plans were always welcome with wide arms.

“Anyway, I thought you and Jay can sit down and relax, while I go and take this baby out for a drive.”

That woke Loki’s curiosity, had him purring silently like a cat on the window sims when the sun was shining. “That sounds fabulous.” He gave Tony’s chest a pat before he stepped back and hopped onto the hood of the nearest car. “Show off your work.”

“Oh, I shall.” Tony’s jaunty grin was contagious, Loki could feel one tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Be ready for something the world has never seen before.” The visor fell shut quietly.

Nothing was happening for a moment, Tony likely having a silent conversation with JARVIS. Then, Tony spread his palms, put his feet closer together—

Lifted up from the ground, hovered there shortly, before impatience must have caught up with him and he shot down the garage corridor, to the outside.

Loki whistled softly.

_“May I direct your attention to the live-stream, Mr Loki?”_

He turned around, focusing on the hologram. Tony was flying _fast_.

_“Handles like a dream,”_ came Tony’s voice through, breathless almost.

Loki chuckled, watching fascinatedly how Tony got control over the suit, his flight stabilising with each mile he laid back. There was a giant wheel, and much to Loki’s surprise, Tony zoomed in on kids – one of them lost half of their ice cream.

“Did you show me that on purpose?” Loki chuckled fondly.

“ _Why would I do that?”_ But Tony sounded as if he was laughing too. _“All right, time to go higher—”_

Tony sped up as he shot up into the sky. The moon on the display wasn’t getting _bigger_ , but Loki saw how fast Tony was approaching it.

And then, the suit gave up.

Tony was tumbling – _falling_ – down the sky.

Terror was spreading through Loki, at the same time as morbid curiosity did. He had fallen once, fallen and fallen, no way to stop, believing himself dead. He was curious if Tony would make it. His hands were balled into fists, and he was just getting up from his seat—

The ice fell.

Tony’s flight stabilised.

Loki allowed himself to breathe in again. He hadn’t been aware that he stopped breathing, hypnotised by what was going on.

“ _I think I know what weakness I have to fix,”_ Tony laughed. _“Icing problem, who could have thought of that?”_

Loki didn’t reply, not yet. Needed a moment to collect himself and his wits again.

_“I’m back in a second, do you want to grab the champagne already, honey?”_

“But of course,” Loki replied automatically. He unclenched his hands, forced his jaw to be lax again, rolled his shoulders. _Everything had gone well._

Tony decided to make an entrance by crashing through the ceiling. Loki supposed he might have hit the piano as well, going by the sound of it. He hurried up quickly, worried that Tony had gotten hurt _now_ , after surviving that stupid stunt of his.

“You’re okay,” Loki breathed out when he saw Tony already climbing up from the floor. The piano was lying broken on the floor.

“Of course, I am. As if some break in would kill me.”

Loki shook his head, muttered an, “Unbelievable,” then helped Tony down into the workshop again.

—

To Loki, the fate for Tony Stark was clear. He was becoming Iron Man, and nothing would change that. Unless he got killed pre-maturely but that would take the fun out of everything, and fun was something Loki cherished.

Therefore, it didn’t come to him as a surprise when Tony disappeared soon into his workshop again to tinker with his flying armour. But to be pulled along, was astonishing to Loki. There was a difference from today to when he’d suspected Obadiah. Tony was less likely to doubt his word, instead he was asking Loki for input, bounced ideas off with him until Loki felt like making his own Iron Man suit. Not in red and gold though, Tony was almost _obsessed_ with those colours, insisting they were _as subtle as him._

This feel that flowed through his veins – to be part of something, not to be pushed aside, only tolerated because of relations—

Loki couldn’t describe it. It made something happen inside of him that was as beautiful as it was terrifying because he knew that he’d miss this feeling when it would be over. Affection was thawing his heart, his own demeanour relaxing when he was here, in the workshop with Tony. It happened too fast, only three days had passed since the test run but—

He stopped holding his ideas back on day two, after getting only a handful of sleep.

Tony’s eyes were glowing with increasing excitement when Loki brought up the idea of a suit that could be controlled by JARVIS and sent to Tony when he needed it. _No,_ he hadn’t forgotten the surprise attack – and Loki’s walls were crumbling alarmingly fast but he welcomed it.

Change. Chaos.

That was what he was here for, wasn’t it? Start Tony Stark off stronger; have him become more powerful, a worthy opponent. For whom, Loki couldn’t say, didn’t voice his own name, tongue turned to lead.

Today had been the only time when Tony had gotten up and left for a charity event for firefighters, Loki had chosen to remain here, preferring to read a book instead. Tony had come back after an hour, caught up with Pepper, and that had been it, according to his words. He’d been much more interested in sitting down together to work on some more gadgets; Tony was screwing a gauntlet onto his arms when the news became interesting.

_‘Villagers have been forced to take shelter in whatever crude dwellings they can find in the ruins of other villages, or here in the remnants of an old Soviet smelting plant. Recent violence has been attributed to a group of foreign fighters referred to by locals as the Ten Rings—”_

Tony suddenly grew still. The repulsor was glowing up.

“ _—mission could prove fatal to anyone who stands in their way.”_

That was the moment, wasn’t it? Loki was quiet when Tony got up, fired his repulsor, nothing but disgust and _anger_ , was written over him in harsh lines. His mirror walls suffered shots when a woman was begging for news on her husband.

_“There’s very little hope for those refugees, refugees who can only who, if anyone, will help.”_

“Are you going to do something about this?” Loki asked, breaking the mounting silence.

Tony gave a sharp nod, turned around and walked to the platform.

“Good,” Loki said under his breath. _Who was he turning into?_ A few days of companionship, some scraps of attention, and here he was, cheering the hero – his _enemy_ – on.

“You’re not going to stop me?” Tony asked him, incredulity colouring his voice.

“This is what you have been working towards since Day one, and I haven’t stopped you once. Why would I start doing that now?”

Tony’s eyes were glassing over but he didn’t respond, only gave JARVIS a signal. When the armour was attached to him, all subtle red and gold, he didn’t waste another second, shot off through the garage again.

JARVIS streamed the flight for Loki again, uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps he was calculating the odds of Tony’s survival.

_“Sorry for the rash departure,”_ Tony eventually said.

“Forgiven,” Loki replied, his tone light as his heart was beating faster and faster. “How about you focus on what is important though?”

“I can multitask, you know?”

“You almost run into the door this morning when you were talking with Pepper.”

“The emphasis is on _almost_ there, Jake Long.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Ten minutes until arrival, Tony.” He was watching with trepidation as Tony neared Gulmira on the map JARVIS was supplying. The situation reminded him of the day of Thor’s coronation – the anticipation building up in him, knowing something grand was about to happen – in different ways though. Loki had different feelings about these two events as well; although some of them were the same. Pride, for one.

No matter how unfit he’d thought Thor to be to rule – it still had been his brother, taking over the throne. _His brother_. Bitterness was starting to churn inside of him, wondering what was happening on Asgard now—

_“Arrival in one minute,”_ JARVIS announced calmly.

Loki’s attention was back on the hologram. Nothing gave him more goosebumps than Tony’s stoic silence as he took the others down, not one shot missed. It was deadly accuracy, ferocious desire for revenge, and the competence that got Loki. He’d been there since the second hour for Iron Man, and he saw the progress. From the stumbling fool who almost got himself killed by an icing problem, to a precursor to the Avengers.

_Wasn’t he a fool to create his own enemy and make him as strong as that?_

The answer was a clear _yes,_ but Loki had always loved to make his own enemies. Be it someone from a noble’s house, or his brother, or a mad Titan. He knew how to pick them right.

Then Tony got shot from the sky.

“Didn’t you see that one coming?” Loki asked, shaking his head. Here he’d been thinking that Tony was paying attention.

_“Aren’t you supposed to look out for me?”_

“I thought you had eyes in your head,” Loki replied, just as Tony hit the ground. “Now, get up, second one incoming.”

_“Thank you for that.”_ Tony missed the second shot fired at him, retaliated in kind. Unlike them though, he didn’t miss. The tank exploded and Loki thought he could feel the heat on his skin, melted it off until it was dripping to the ground.

“A pleasure.” Loki squinted at the hologram, as Tony was about to take off again. “Tony, wait.”

_“What now? You want a souvenir?”_

“Didn’t you want to destroy your other weapons?” Loki asked, all innocent. Banter, that was better. Banter was familiar territory for them.

_“Thank you, darling,”_ Tony drawled into the helmet. _“I would have overseen those, in such hurry that I am to get back to you.”_

That was the end of the matter, but—

Loki was a trained warrior, had learnt about the way to lead a war, the most proficient strategies, and the most insane ones too because he’d begged their tutor to tell them. Curiosity, the need to know how to win in different ways than just ‘two armies marching against each other, the last one standing wins’, had taken over and won him more knowledge.

Something that proved true in most cases that the leader of a group was _never_ far away. Not always there, true, but never _gone entirely_. Men would rebel, someone else takes over, and two loyal buffoons with weapons did nothing against a fully turned group.

“Go hiding, and wait,” Loki suggested softly. “JARVIS, can you scan the surroundings for any movements that are _not_ from the refugees?”

_“Of course.”_

“ _Lokester, what are you thinking?”_

“That you should hurry up with hiding,” Loki replied, studying the map of Afghanistan intently. He didn’t hear any other complaints from Tony, so he took that as a sign of his compliance. That was nice. Loki liked it when people obeyed him, not all the time, that would lead to endless frustration, and boredom. No, not to understand him wrong, if he asked for tea, he wanted tea to be delivered as soon as possible. But occasionally, he wanted to play.

_“Movement detected. Suspects likely to be members of the Ten Rings.”_

_“Oh,” Tony said. “That’s why you wanted me to–?”_

“The leader of a group is never far,” Loki mumbled. “One of the simplest rules in war.”

Tony gave a snort. _“You been around much, heh?”_

“How do you say, you haven’t the faintest?” Loki pondered out loud, his eyes on the marked spot on the card. “If you want to take a look at who’s inside, you ought to do that now, Tony.”

Tony zoomed in on the transport vehicles, his breath stopped for a second.

“You know him?” Loki asked, almost unnecessarily.

_“Raza.”_ Then, Tony shot the vehicles.

And Raza was no more.

“ _That was for you, Yinsen.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, Surprise, the plot to Iron Man 1 is therefore done and over with, Loki really outdid himself there. Also caught some feels there, or so it seems. The Tragedy 👀
> 
> Also, tags have been updated, and I hope I got all from my plot ehehehe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If somebody finds February, feel free to tell me because I genuinely have no idea where it went. Poof. Also, a casual reminder that author doesn't necessarily share the same views the character has xD

Loki was feeling drowsy as he watched Tony return to Malibu. There was a sense of calm spreading through him, and he was listening to some music that JARVIS was playing for him. Nothing that Tony would approve of but that was the fun of it, wasn’t it? He’d just helped to win a war, moved the chess pieces so that no losses would be on his side.

Perhaps this drowsiness was part of the victory, a companion, not so well-known to the soldiers. When the war was over, victory in the bags and everyone was heading home. Boisterous laughs, claps on the backs, stories already told how great one did in battle, exaggerated tales of how well one knew how to swing a sword and sever the thread the Norns had decided to cut. Thor’s loud voice and Odin’s proud eye twitch, Frigga’s worried face but her hands itching to heal those who’d come home harmed.

Only there was no Asgard here, was it?

No story telling either, only Tony being unusually quiet. It was as if the triumph was leaving him cold; though a glance at his vitals told him that his pulse was still beating fast, still running on the rush battle left one with.

“I’m surprised you’re not extolling your victory to the skies,” Loki remarked idly. “Where’s the cheering, Tony?”

_“Haven’t caught up with the news yet_ ,” Tony replied. _“Was thinking of saving my breath for when I get home and we order pizza and– oh, do you feel like choosing a wine for us? Red wine goes along well with pizza. There’s a Jota Howell Mountain that I wanted to try for ages. Do you like red berries?”_

“Do you truly want it for the red berries?” Loki inquired, suspecting something else being at play here.

_“No. There’s supposedly a bit of coffee aroma in there. That acceptable enough for you?”_

“It would explain more why you thought of that particular bottle.” Loki sighed. “I’ll get it, so we can celebrate your victory?”

_“My victory?”_ Tony chuckled, almost embarrassed if Loki were to guess. _“It’s ours, Loki.”_

“You were the one who killed them,” Loki argued with a frown. “I didn’t do anything.”

_“Are you kidding me? Take the thirty percent that I’m admitting here are yours to have. And then get the bottle for us out, you heathen.”_

“Are you ordering me around?”

Loki was glad for the distraction and turned around to leave for the wine cellar. Better than– thinking about that Tony acknowledged that he was _part_ of the victory, that his commentary and his planning was _useful_. Not something to be disregarded – as if battles would go over well without planning beforehand. Only ninnyhammers would say otherwise, but Loki was so used to having those around him that someone using their brain was almost a breathtaking spectacle to him. Then again, he ought to be familiar by now with Tony doing the unexpected: applied logic. But it was such an unheard concept on the grounds Loki usually walked that it took him by surprise, nonetheless. He wasn’t complaining. Only gawking and feeling warm.

_“Yes. I can’t get the bottle and nei—”_ Tony broke off, cursing.

“Tony?”

_“You know what? I—”_

Loki turned back. His eyes went wide as he saw two red dots on the hologram, chasing Tony. “Dive right,” he ordered. Tony did as he asked, evading a shot fired at him. “Where did they come from?”

_“Military,”_ Tony replied _. “Noticed something went wrong and are scouting for something wrong. Fuck—”_

“Tony?”

_“Going to try something. Get the wine or help me out here, Q.”_

“Can you shake them off?”

_“Not if they put trackers on me,”_ Tony replied harshly. _“Pretty sure they did just that.”_ The feed turned glaringly white for a moment as he shot upwards into the endless sky.

Loki was _just_ itching with the desire to act on it, destroy their new enemies. Would he be able to get away with destroying the other two flying objects? Would someone detect him? But Tony would ask questions, wouldn’t he? Loki ran his tongue over his bottom lip, pinched his nose bridge as he sent out a small whisk of seiðr that would blind the pilots momentarily. He couldn’t do much more than minor mischief and needed to trust Tony to get out of this pickle by himself.

But every faith Loki had, seemed to be proven correct as Tony outsmarted the planes. He got chased for a few heartbeats longer, then he appeared to vanish— Until he tilted his head and the camera showed the belly side of the plane for a moment.

“You sly fox,” Loki muttered appreciatively. A grin was spreading over his lips, not even small to begin with. A burst of laughter followed disbelief which was running through him. He couldn’t believe what his own eyes were seeing. Someone, a man, _a warrior,_ who tricked and cheated mid-battle, didn’t rely only on strength and power only, to strike the enemy down in the biggest and most outrageous possible way although it surely was _one tactic—_

No, instead he relied on _logic,_ and it didn’t matter to him what that entailed as long as he won.

“ _I don’t think it is a good idea that you approve of Sir’s adventures as much as you do, Mr Loki,”_ JARVIS commented mirthfully. _“How am I to stop him from committing mistakes with your cheerful support?”_

“You shall try it anyway,” Loki replied, and his voice was light. “Because you will need the justification for it later.”

_“That I do.”_ Loki heard the eyeroll, but it was a gentle one. JARVIS wasn’t revolted by their actions, nor that his Sir was doing something outrageously like this. No. The drowsiness Loki had experienced earlier was gone. He felt his fingers twitch in excitement at the prospect of Tony coming back to Malibu and they could _talk_ about mischief, and other trickery; see, to what kind of chaos Loki would be able to inspire Tony, now that he knew better, more intimately, how Tony worked.

“ _Call Rhodey,”_ Tony interrupted Loki’s cheerful moment. “ _They discovered me. And I don’t want to be shot down.”_

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Loki confessed, his facial muscles still infected with that stupid grin that didn’t waver for a single moment.

_“You’d kill me beforehand? That’s so romantic of you,”_ Tony cooed. _“Now, hurry up.”_

There was already the promising ringing of a phone. Loki blinked according to the rhythm along with it.

_“Tony!”_ That was James on the phone. _“If you’re going to tell me what I think you will, then you better don’t and tell me instead you’re running down the Mulholland Highway because you forgot to take your car with you.”_

For a moment, there was silence. Then, “ _I wish I could do that. Fuck, Loki, let’s do that when I’m back instead of pizza.”_

Loki sent a questioning glance towards the computer, hoping that JARVIS would explain. He only listened with half an ear what Tony and James were talking about, beguiled as he was by photos of the Mulholland Highway. It was a highway between Malibu and Calabasas and had quite a reputation for being a sought after dangerous racing road, responsible for the death of many. Loki stared at all the twists and turns, aware of the risks, but he thought about the speed, the wind blowing, laughing Death into the face as he was racing down, taking one curve after the other and fly—

“ _I’m not– you know what, change of plans. I’ll meet up with you at the base, yes? Make sure you order in pizza, honeybums, because I deserve some. Loki, you copy?”_

“Yes.”

He had no idea what he’d just agreed to but it would be fun anyway.

—

Loki walked into a military base of the United States, and it felt like the set up for a hilariously bad joke. He wasn’t from here, only got through because of Tony’s word and some arrangements that he was to be trusted.

Tony greeted him, still in his Iron Man armour and then surprised him by walking towards the exit – where Loki had just come from.

“Change of plans,” Tony informed him. The loud _clang_ of his metal shoes on the floor had Loki’s hair rising. It gave him similar chills to when Thor had tried to learn writing and scratched the feather against the parchment so badly that it had torn and the feather broken. Loki schooled his face back into order although he felt he wasn’t truly accomplishing anything with that – instead he was giving away too much.

“The military wants my suit,” Tony started as soon as Loki had caught up to him. Tony was still a man of small statue and his legs were only as long as tines were; therefore it had been easy and Loki hadn’t even broken out into sweating. He wasn’t sure he could say the same of the other. “And I don’t want them to have it, so I’ll make a public claim. Let them gawk and stew over it.”

“And what did your friend say to that?”

Tony didn’t respond, instead tried to shove his armour and himself into the limousine that had come with Loki on behest of JARVIS. There were a few scratches now in the dark paint of the car but that didn’t seem to matter to the Boiling Man.

“Can’t believe people think they can have whatever I have.” Tony stared angrily at the seat in front of him, reaching for a bottle of water. “I mean, are we practicing communism nowadays in the States? Did I miss that memo? Mi casa es tu casa, but it isn’t their casa.”

Loki frowned. “Why should it be? It is yours, after all.”

Tony made a weird finger gesture at him and clicked with his tongue. “You get it. And Rhodey can tell me all he wants about how the military wants to use it for the greater good but they only want it for themselves in the end, too. There’s no _difference._ The only one that separates them and me is that _I created it._ I own it.”

“Agreed,” Loki replied and gave the chest piece a knock with the knuckle of his index finger. “There’s no need to rage at me however, I am not your enemy, Tony.”

“I know.” Tony sighed, nothing but frustration was rolling off him in waves. “Sometimes—“

He hesitated and Loki felt as if he was watching Tony fight for coming to a conclusion that somehow involved him and how fare he could trust him.

_I have given you the heads of your enemies._ Loki looked at Tony, blinked slowly like a cat that was luring one in with promises of kisses and never-ending cuddles before it would tear your face off with its claws. He had knives on himself, stowed away for a time he’d need them. Not that he would skin Tony; he liked his beard but it was a matter of fact that he would still do it. If he was tickled for it.

_I haven’t caused any harm to you or any of your friends yet. I have respected every rule as a guest is wont to do. You can trust me, Tony Stark. I am not planning your ultimate demise._

He knew that Tony couldn’t read thoughts but he still relaxed. Sometimes it was only about thinking your intentions that made the other realise in what company they were in. If somebody was out to murder you, they felt the glares into their back, the stings into their heart as you tore it out, the poison creeping into their veins and the hand around their neck, choking them. It was called _gut instinct_ and Loki swore fervently on it with crossed fingers; not that it was always correct but most of the time, it happened to be. Based on what you were thinking, you were radiating to the outside as it changed your body’s language and softened the iron glare in your eyes.

“Sometimes I don’t feel as if people listen to me,” Tony confessed, his voice not louder than a whisper. “They listen to someone else, who doesn’t _know_ , who only pretends and plays around but not me, when it concerns _me._ The board of Stark Industry preferred to listen to Obadiah because he was around for longer and because he thought like my _father_ – not me, who knows what the masses want. There’s a reason for all the flash and bang.”

Tony’s eyes were sincere as the car set into motion and he gave the driver – Happy? – an address to take them to.

“I want their attention, Loki. And I know how to get it, I know how to get it so that they don’t listen to those around me who want to get their fingers into the game. Capture their attention from the first second on or you’ve lost them. Flashes, bangs, a confident voice, a contradictory statement – I’ve played the game so often by now that when I lose it, all that I feel is rage. And often, it’s consuming me.” A bitter smile was twisting Tony’s face, a shadow chasing over the mirth dancing in the brown depths of his eyes. “So, I rage at friends who I trust to listen, who understand me. I don’t need to create an extra flash and bag to be sure I have your attention.”

Every bit of air Loki had was sucked out of his lungs as if Mjölnir was taking a nap on his chest.

_Friends_.

Such a simple word, an even simpler concept, but it was surprising to hear. To realise it was no lie.

It wasn’t as if Loki hadn’t thought they weren’t friends, just that they weren’t friends yet more friends like no friends in the sense of friends at court that helped each other out and got manipulated. Only that the friend wouldn’t know about it, the other no friend gain great influence and see first-hand how to best move the Queen on the field without sacrificing too many other pawns. It was disturbing to him how he hadn’t seen this coming, and perhaps he was thinking too much already again.

“Then carry on raging,” was the best Loki could offer. He blinked, shook himself out of his trance and smiled fleetingly at Tony. _Rage_ was such a familiar concept to Loki, one he could relate with; the fire in his blood, pumping, everything turning so hot and vision blurred by absolute madness—

“I’m so glad you chose not to make a moment out of that, Ronald.” Tony was chuckling, the rage vaporised into nothing.

“Did you want me to?”

_“No.”_ Tony stared at him like he’d turned into Odin, completely horrified upon the realisation age will catch up with him one day as well. “Please, no. Just say thank you and make sure to never mention this moment again, people will think I’m going soft otherwise and I can’t have that.”

“A soft armour would be useless, wouldn’t it?”

Tony snorted dryly. “Yes. Exactly what I was referring to.” He leaned back into the seat and Loki listened closely to hear the fine thread of the seats tear and rip at the movement of the hard armour.

“You’re staring,” Tony remarked.

“You tore the seats up.”

“Pepper is going to kill me,” Tony muttered. “Fuck. Okay. Mark that down as ‘never happened today’ and hope Pepper won’t notice in the next two weeks.”

“Lies, Tony?”

“Lies, Loki.”

Loki could live with being a conspiratorial liar, especially when it was for such a trifle matter that was about a tear in a seat. “Do you have a plan what you want to say?”

Tony shook his head. “Was thinking of improvisation. Works well, most of the time, not always of course. What needs to be conveyed is that I won’t give Iron Man up.”

“Any better, convincing reason why the public should support you owning it instead of voicing their support for the military to use it?” Loki raised a brow and put his elbows on his thighs as he leant forward. Thor had been the heralded hero, been sold as such to everyone too and it had worked in his favour because he _was_ a mass of sunshine, made the people feel special when he talked to them. Loki didn’t – he usually attracted what Frigga used to call _the wrong kind of people_ , who were less interested in obeying and cheated their way through life – it wasn’t something that made a good Ás think, “A trustworthy soul.”

No thief would dare to approach Thor, knowing he’d most likely throw them into the dungeon, whereas Loki would judge them by what they had to offer to him and then do what he thought would be– interesting. As long as it didn’t end up hurting Asgard too much or put his brother at too great of a risk, everything and everyone was considered as fair game. If Tony wished to have control over his possessions, without having to fight over it, well–

“No.” Tony groaned, buried his face in his hands for a moment. “Did I call Pepper yet? Has she any plans? I could tell them I am not going to market it since Stark Industries isn’t manufacturing weapons any longer. Yeah.” Tony nodded, then shook his head. “They won’t take it. Too weak. Leaves an opening.”

“Try to tell them the truth,” Loki said earnestly. “That you are _their_ protector and hero. You’re fighting for them, make sure the soldiers come home in one piece and without taking great harm. You’re out there to make sure sons can go back home to their mothers and loved ones. You’re not taking away their jobs, you’re the support they all have been waiting for. The world is about to change – and you’re proof of that. Nothing is going to stay the way it is.” He smiled as he saw Tony nod. “You’re not the villain here, what you do is selfless – with a smidge of clearing up your legacy and making sure that something like this, that your people will not be killed again.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is that easy.” Loki tilted his head. “I’m sure there is already rumours and talks about what happened on your flight to take care of your enemies; great deeds like that don’t go by unnoticed, someone will _always_ see. You heard the call of the people for help, and you stepped up to the challenge and made sure the realm is a little bit safer.” He rested his chin on his hands, waiting patiently for Tony to accept his words and strategy. There was no lie in what Loki had said; it was something Tony needed to hear and something Midgardians would eat up. Why think of something complicated when something that golden was so obviously prepared there, ready to be used?

“Jay, what are the news reporting on Afghanistan so far?”

_“They confirm what Mr Loki is saying,”_ JARVIS spoke up from Tony’s pockets, voice muffled by the material. _“Articles about a mysterious hero in Afghanistan—”_

Loki stopped listening after that, blended JARVIS’ voice out. He knew what he needed to know to keep working from here. Instead, he watched Tony pull out his phone and read what JARVIS sent to him what he’d considered vital. His eyes were flickering from the left to the right, back and forth; a fast reader.

The car stopped soon after. Loki watched in sheer delight how Tony got out of the car, still in the Iron Man suit, and it looked like a baby trying to walk without knowing how to do it. Loki loved it, for the short time that it lasted. He followed Tony out and hurried with him inside. _Clonk, clonk._

“I should add a stealth option,” Tony mumbled, “minimise the noise the armour makes. So quiet and soft that you can massage someone with it even. How’s that sound?”

“Wonderful.”

“Your enthusiasm is killing me.”

“Indeed.” Loki continued to grin as the noise didn’t die down, no matter how much Tony tried to achieve that. “Is there a reason you didn’t undress at the base?”

“I can’t undress on my own,” Tony muttered, gaze turned away from Loki. “Still need the bots for that.”

Loki nodded understandingly. “The screws, right?”

“The screws,” Tony repeated. “Well, looks like cat will be out of the bag the moment I step outside for the press conference anyway, so what can go wrong if I appear there looking like this?”

There was a note of hesitation in his voice. Sometimes, Tony was slipping, Loki noticed. His bravado and _I do not care what you think of me_ attitude disappeared and turned into a quiet asking for confirmation, guidance, even. It was so unlike what Loki was used to. On Asgard, you either did something or you didn’t, and hoped that your choice wouldn’t end up with being surrounded by Frost Giants. Not that it had mattered for Loki – no matter what he chose, he was bound to always battle one in the end: himself. The game was rigged but he had done his best to get through, to achieve what he had set out to do—

He stopped Tony with a hand on his cold shoulder armour, gave him a look-over. There was no dirt nor grime on his face, no blood splatters that made him look as if he’d just emerged victoriously from battle. No. Tony was physically clean. There were only dark shadows colouring his face, gave him a darker edge, and he looked almost like a young boy in too big armour; no longer playing at war but heading into it and seeing Death lurking at the edge of the vision. His fury from earlier had worn off, left him empty, waiting for the next thrill to set in so he could function again.

“There is nothing that can go wrong,” Loki said firmly. “You did what no one else could have done.” And when had he turned into such a motivational speaker? His words were no longer used to incite rage in others, to soothe Thor’s fragile ego or talk his way out of a wicked situation, instead they found a new route, talked gently, as if to a lover and made them feel good. “You did good, Tony.”

And perhaps it was the praise, that did it. That Loki didn’t tell him any hyperboles about either scenario that could happen – either them accepting Tony as their new hero or booing him off the stage, no. Tony’s truth would come from his motivation and while that had infinitesimal selfish reasons, Tony hadn’t done it _only_ for his own gain. Tony’s shoulders sagged and a soft smile was curling on his lips, hope in the corners. A deep breath in, out, and Tony Stark was ready to take on the wolves howling for blood.

The press conference felt like a fever dream; only less golden and less heroic cheering, only a noble intention that was declared to the world with, “I am Iron Man.”

Loki was standing at the sides, hopefully not getting captured by the flashlights and watched, pinching his own skin to remind himself that this was real. It was something of a habit. He could feel Tony’s aura take everyone in, as he easily commandeered the room and captured everyone’s attention like others caught hares.

“How do you think it went?” Tony asked as he stepped down, grinning, and Loki swore he’d be bouncing if he wasn’t still stuck in his armour.

“Horrible,” Loki replied, keeping his face calm. “I’m sure that most of them are plotting your demise as we speak.”

Tony chuckled only in response. “Well, then here’s to hoping we have enough time left to open the wine I promised you a bit ago before I get killed off.”

“I must confess, if you’d dared to die beforehand, I would be very cross with you.”

“Oh, good to know where your priorities lie.”

—

The moment Tony had come back upstairs from the workshop, he’d ushered Loki onto the couch, claiming, “ _That it was the most comfortable furniture Loki’s ass ever had the pleasure of meeting.”_ Loki didn’t have the heart to disagree with him, not when Tony was having such a fantastic day and had probably been awake for longer than a human should be allowed to do. Not, that Loki cared overly – he was more interested in seeing for how long Tony could keep this up, work, function, until his brain gave out and he fell asleep mid-walking.

The wine tasted like Valhalla’s younger, jealous sister and Loki tried to keep the bottle full as he didn’t wish for it to be depleted all too soon. Tony was talking fast and loosely, the mild coffee aroma in the beverage was fulfilling its task and Loki basked in the attention. Not, that _he_ was what Tony was talking about, but Tony talked _to him_. There was no TV playing, not even music, Tony was speaking and recounting what they’d done within the last couple of hours that might have gone on for longer than Loki had assumed —

And his hands were slashing through the air, the wine sloshing around in the glass, drops of red landed on Tony’s hand which the hero licked away quickly so he wouldn’t waste a single bead. His voice was animated and full of life as he repeated bits again – and what made Loki’s hear soar was Tony remembering _his participation._ Loki couldn’t get enough, pitched in here and there to tease Tony, hear him laugh.

The wine didn’t lose up his tongue but it certainly helped in ensuring that Loki forgot to take care of what he was saying, who he was talking to. Thoughts were too many, too few at the same time, and he soaked up this warmth and intensity like he’d gone without water for twelve days. Tony talked and he laughed, his hand innocently wiping away a strand of black hair that had fallen into Loki’s face and he remarked how soft it looked. The curls were tickling Loki in his neck, suddenly all too aware of how they moved and danced over his skin. He watched Tony’s hand, the faint tremor in the fingers due to the alcohol.

“I’m glad I hired you,” Tony mumbled after a break in which he breathed for longer than a blink of the eye. “Who knows where I’d be without you.”

Loki felt his mouth twitch at that. He knew _where_. “Dead, most likely,” he replied cheerfully and took a sip from his wine. He couldn’t believe that wine from the ants could taste that divine, the juicy note of berries, with a faint aroma of coffee after you’d swallowed.

“Nah.” Tony shook his head. “I’m not that easy to kill. I’m kind of like a cat, you know. Seven lives and all that jizz.”

Loki made a disbelieving noise. “You did great at hiring me,” he repeated though. “Is that the moment where I ask for a raise?”

“Yes.” Tony nodded and patted his thigh. “And then you tell Pepper she needs to do that because I have no idea what even your surname is. Like Loki, Loki who?”

“It’s just Loki.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, _just Loki.”_

Loki rolled his eyes at that. “I want half of what I earn now, added.”

“Deal. Tell Pepper.”

“Aren’t you the one who hired me and should take care of that?” Loki snorted.

“And steal poor Pepper’s job? No. _No._ We don’t steal women’s jobs in this house, Loki.”

Loki let his eyebrow speak for him. Not stealing anything? That was hard to believe for him.

“What is the plan now?”

“Saving the world.” Tony shrugged. “Since I went and became a superhero–“ and here, he giggled like the wine finally went to his head and made him lose all reasoning, “I have responsibilities.”

Didn’t that sound all too familiar to Loki? He frowned. That was the ninth time he was comparing Tony to Thor and he was– getting _sick_ of it. This here, his time on Midgard, was supposed to be a _break_. Not, that this had ever fully been planned, no, it simply happened like that. Give him enough time to heal and deal with his wounds from the battle, play around with fate and Tony, see where the Norns would take him, shove any and every thought about the Titan and his threats away. Tony was supposed to be his distraction.

But people always shared some traits with each other, didn’t they? And Loki knew what he’d been getting into when he’d decided to follow Tony out of desert, instead of killing him here and there, knowing nothing good ever followed from meeting a Tony. There was still this quiet question nagging at him _what_ the other Tony had been doing there, parading around as a SHIELD agent – he certainly hadn’t been there _only_ to—

Loki felt a headache coming up.

“What’s your plan?” The question took Loki by surprise. Was it not obvious, that he was planning on staying with Tony? “I mean, so far you haven’t tried a single time to get out of here. To contact anyone or tried to get back at your captors or former employers. You’ve got any family you want to tell you’re alive?”

_That would imply they cared enough for my demise in the first place._ Loki easily put a smile on his face, tried not to show his– heartbreak, he supposed this was. The ache in his chest, a flame burning for him to walk through golden halls once more, sullied by the knowledge that he was but a traitor and not worthy to come back, failing Asgard and his family not only once but twice, maybe thrice. He hadn’t even managed to off himself when the time had come which was a shameful matter to attempt in the first place. Thor would have never tried to do that, would he?

“There’s nobody,” he told Tony. “They’re better off if they think me dead.”

“Bullshit.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I don’t regret having you here and seeing you alive, if they think differently then they’ve really lost their marbles.”

Loki’s smile crumbled. “Believe me, it is better not to change their beliefs.” He saw Tony open his mouth, and raised a finger in warning, his voice sharp and cold like the knives he carried with him. “Don’t try to change my mind on that. I will gouge your eyes out and stuff the empty sockets with pizza you’re so fond of and leave you here as meal for your bots when the oil won’t get changed anymore.”

Tony blinked. “That was more terrifying than facing the press was earlier. Maybe even as scary as when Pepper told me to choke on my tie because I forgot an important appointment with a big client. Good times. Very scary, but—”

_Could he choke Tony?_ Loki stared at the man next to him on the couch, unsure whether he should kill him now or leave it for later. His fingers were itching, waiting to wrap themselves around Tony’s throat, feel his pulse beat beneath his fingers and—

“Do you understand?” Loki pressed out. _He couldn’t kill it. He’d survived Thor and his obsequiously friends, he would survive Tony Stark too._

“All right.” Tony raised his hands, winked, and then carried on as if nothing of importance had happened. “You want something else to drink? I had my second glass, you too, the bottle should be almost empty. You feel like something stronger? Lighter? And then we can watch a movie if you want to. Oh, and think about what you want to do in the future, M.”

“Do you have any more of this wine?”

“Fan, aren’t you?” Tony’s grin was blending. “It tastes swell, gotta give you that. Wouldn’t have pegged you as red wine lover though.” 

“The world is full of surprises.” Loki got up alongside with Tony, glad to stretch his legs out as they had started to go numb on the couch. “Let’s get more?”

“Yes.” Tony was bouncing down to the storage, his hair messed up from all the times he’d run his fingers through it. “Do you want something else too? Chips? Baguette? No pizza for you, I don’t want you to think I’m inviting you to play surgeon with my eyes. We could order in tacos, you like them? Careful now, I spilled oil there earlier.”

Loki stepped over the few drops of oil on the stair. The way Tony filled silence with noise was wonderful, kept him from thinking about Asgard all too much or how much he missed it, and his brother. Not, that Thor missed _him_ – that had been painfully obvious when Thor confronted him after taking him from the plane. His first words had been about the Tesseract, not _Loki_. No, “how have you been, Loki?” or any question where he’s spent the last two years that had felt so much longer to Loki, _no._

Thor had been there on behest of the Allfather and acted accordingly, any trace of a caring brother – gone. There’d been doubts anyway. How could Thor care when Loki was a monster, the one fiend Thor had sworn to erase, and then ensured that Loki saw no proof of Thor acting any different when it concerned him?

Another bottle of the same brand was chosen, together with a white one Tony felt like because _the label was pretty_. Loki didn’t think that this was how you settled on wine but who was he to stop someone who wished for bitter wine to _dinner?_ He could hear Tony’s stomach complaining about the lack of food. They were headed into the kitchen when the lights started to flicker—

Went out.

They were bathed in complete darkness. Loki could only feel Tony close to him, heard him breath in sharply. Nothing else was heard anymore.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked.

Nothing.

Loki squinted, tried to see something in the dark but he couldn’t really see anything. “Is that normal for your house to go dark?”

“No.” Tony was stepping closer to him. “JARVIS isn’t replying either, _that’s_ unusual.”

“Someone really doesn’t want us to have a moment to enjoy food in peace.” Loki sighed.

“Yeah, no. But JARVIS should be up any minute again, there’s an emergency protocol for cases like this.” Tony shoved his elbow into Loki’s side. “Time to go back and eat said food. I’ve got my fingers on _something_ , don’t ask what, it’ll spoil the surprise.”

“You don’t know what it is either, do you.”

Tony didn’t reply to that, probably pouting into the darkness that Loki had figured out his all mighty and clever scheme. He smiled a bit at that. “If it’s cabbage, I claim it for me alone.”

“You’re a _cabbage lover?_ Yeah, I don’t think it’s that, sorry to disappoint you. _”_

“It’s green,” Loki replied simply.

“So, theoretically, strawberries are mine because they’re red and gold?”

“Yes.” The lights were still out. Yet, Tony didn’t worry all too much. It left Loki to wonder whether this was because he had that much of faith in his JARVIS or because Tony didn’t think anyone would attack him like that. _Moron,_ Loki decided and let a knife slip into his hands. If he needed it, then it’d be there, if not, then—

No harm done.

They walked back into the living room, the grand windows illuminated by the moon outside and a single lamp shining. It was a dramatic set-up, purposefully installed, and a man stood there with the back to them. “I am Iron Man,” he said, repeating Tony’s words almost mockingly. “You think you’re the only superhero in the world? Mr Stark, you’ve become part of a bigger universe, you just don’t know it yet.”

_Didn’t he?_ Loki was surprised by that statement. Did the man know about Thor? Asgard? _The Titan? Who was this man?_

“Who the hell are you?” Tony asked.

“Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD.”

_Them._ Everything was clear to Loki now. Those were the mortals he’d encountered when Thor had been banished, had kept him captive and failed to stop them both. He didn’t dare to think of stopping the snort. Fury was talking, _bluffing—_ he hadn’t even met Thor yet and already claimed that there were more people on this realm, playing superhero? No. That was a blatant lie.

The eye shifted to him. “Do you think this is funny business? That you know more than me what’s lurking out there?”

He smiled, choosing to say nothing, irritating with his silence.

Fury’s glare was heating up, Loki could feel it tickle him featherlight, barely grazing him enough to feel something. But Fury chose to leave it be, instead focusing on the object of his desire, to get his own plan into motion. “I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative, Stark.”

“The what?”

“A group of misfits,” Loki explained with a chuckle. “People who are meant to work together, a weapon aimed and directed by SHIELD to protect your home from any threat they perceive as such.”

“I don’t even know SHIELD,” Tony said slowly. “Why would I want to work for you? With people that I don’t know, no less?”

Loki nodded, thinking the same. It was interesting that Tony had agreed to such a group activity, when Barton had told him he was no team player – none of the Avengers truly were. But perhaps they thought the group would form and establish bonds, if there was a common enemy? Pride flickered through Loki, unprompted. His brother had—

“It’s an idea,” Fury explained coldly. “One, that might help us to survive the years to come, until we know better what is lurking _out there_. You cannot fathom what is happening, what your precious AI _doesn’t see_ because we don’t want you and the world to know.”

Loki hummed, lifted his knife to toss it into the air and let it disappear. The other two stared into the air, the nothingness, where the knife had gone to. “I’m sure that you know a lot, Fury, but you are naught but a soldier with more orders either, are you? An ant, crawling in the dirt, glimpsing at what it might mean to play with gods.”

“Got up on the wrong side of the bed today?” Fury asked. “Your friends always that crazy, Stark?”

“Matches mine,” Tony replied cheerfully. “Next to him, I look normal and have people approach me about group activities. What’s the payment, who are the people I’m supposed to work with, who is going to give the orders, et cetera et cetera. Can you even afford me?” He laughed. “Currently I’m the only superhero in the world, apart from all the nerds in town who dress up in Halloween costumes and help an old lady over the street.”

“You’re helping to make the world a better place—”

“He can do that on his own,” Loki interrupted kindly.

“—and get back up from other gifted people.”

“Gifted, how?” Tony asked.

“You’ll get to hear about them after you’ve agreed to work with us. We won’t give out secrets like that.”

“So, you have nobody else except for me for your initiative.”

“Oh, they do, Tony.” Loki turned away to put the wine on the table. “I would rather ask how those people are gifted and where that is coming from. How it is that SHIELD keeps surveillance over them, if they agreed voluntarily to it or not.” He could feel Tony’s sharp gaze in his back, prickling, and he turned back around, all traces of humour gone, leaving only staidness behind which he was born to wear like others did with crowns. “They do wish to use you, your name and fame, your hard-won and freshly gained reputation because that _will_ make it easier for them to recruit others. You are to be the face of their organisation. Or depending on how the story will go, your Iron Man is going to be used as prosopopoeia for peace and freedom.”

Tension was rising between them, though it only affected two of them. Loki didn’t feel fear in face of Fury’s growing irritation at his lack of respect from him, that he had caused his intimidation act to fail gloriously. But ad ultimo, it was Tony’s decision what he would do. Loki had laid the gigantic crumbs, they were there, ready to be picked up.

“Fury, leave,” Tony decided, eating away at the crumbs like a duck.

The Avengers Initiative blew away like someone snapped with their fingers.

“I need a coffee,” Tony decided when the door fell shut behind Fury. “And then, I think we both need to talk.”

“You are spoiling me with so much attention.”

“Spoiling you, all right. You’re spoiling me with all that _information_ that seemingly pops up out of the nowhere whenever a situation arises. No, coffee first, then talk.”

“Do you think coffee will make it better?”

“No, but it will make _me_ feel better because I don’t know whether I should handcuff you or just throw you of the window.”

“I’d slip out of the first within seconds and survive the latter easily.” Loki laughed softly at Tony’s look.

“That’s a long, _long_ way down and unless you’ve got an iron man armour of your own to save you or a plane waiting nearby to catch you – I _fucking doubt it._ ”

“Do you care enough to try?” Loki felt adrenaline build up in his veins at the mere prospect of jumping from a high place—

“ _No!”_ Tony looked at him, aghast. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, taking a moment to collect himself, Loki thought. “Okay so, there anything you want to tell me? Just, straight up front, without me digging into your past?”

“You wouldn’t find anything on me,” Loki replied almost pitifully. “I do not have any records here, in fact, most people would deny my mere existence.”

“Because your name is Loki?” Tony challenged him as he looked back up. “Okay, no coffee then, I don’t think coffee is strong enough for this. Where the fuck did the knife from earlier go?”

“Into my pockets.” Loki pulled said knife out beneath his sweater before he put it back after Tony got a good luck at it. “Always good to have a weapon on yourself.”

“Most people here would say a gun is much better.”

“How mundane. Everyone can shoot a gun and hit something. But aiming to win a fight with a knife, get close to your opponent in order to do so? Focusing on hurting them instead of yourself – now, Tony, _that_ is where true skill lies.”

“All right. Didn’t miss though that you still didn’t tell me who you are. Because my first thought was a model, but no – you’re too good for that with the way you read people, interact with them. You’re skilled in manipulation, know what to say and when, but if you were a spy what I first thought you are—” Tony broke off. “No agency has come running to claim you yet, nobody tried to get you back in, there’s nothing of you to be found and I hacked into the CIA for this.”

“I’m no spy,” Loki replied. “Not in the way you understand it. It _is_ true that I gather intel and use it for my own gain though.”

“Cool. So, you’re an independent spy.”

“I think my mother would be enraged to hear that you are thinking of me so low to be a spy.” Loki watched Tony closely, saw the frustration battle against the man’s own Achilles’ Heel, _curiosity._ He wanted to know everything; it was the core of what made Tony Stark into him. He decided to give in, let destiny run its course with how Tony would reply to him coming clean.

“My name is Loki of Asgard, and I am the god of mischief and chaos.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, the idea came to me when I saw [this gifset on tumblr](https://tonystarkfucksaround.tumblr.com/post/637201235571884032/escaping-and-waking-up-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-in). Apparently, my muse has a thing for Loki Trailers. 
> 
> ~~~~  
> Also, there's a chance I'm adding more to this because my muse just _be_ like that but pst.  
> 


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